The Year of the Goblins
by Irish Lady Knight
Summary: This is a story set in Harry Potter's sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. When an influential goblin is killed by HeWhoMustNotBeNamed, the world of Harry Potter is changed. No one knows what will happen next. Read to find out!
1. A Dark Beginning

**A/N**: This is my 4th fanfic, but I deleted the other stories b/c I became lazy and didn't feel the need to finish them. After reading many, many fanfics about Harry's 6th year and after being frustrated that the authors didn't read my mind and write as like I wanted them to, I decided to create my own. I can't guarantee that all of this is of my creation, I may '_borrow_' (and I repeat: '_Borrow_') a part of a storyline, character, or name from someone's fanfic. As I can not remember if something is 'borrowed' or fabricated of my own mind, I will not be listing my sources. I will reply to any questions you might have in my next chapter (if I figure out how to post it, see bottom of page).

_**Chapter 1**_

Ragnok looked around at his surroundings. How had he come here? All he could remember was that he was looking for a key for a new customer at the bank.

He noticed his left hand was clutching something and opened it. Inside his hand on his palm was a golden key.

So he must've gotten the key, but his question was still unanswered.

Suddenly, a memory came to mind. He remembered Bill Weasley had said something about the famous Harry Potter being sent to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named by a magical object called a 'porgty' or some such thing.

This 'porgty' object was an ordinary looking item, preferably Muggle, which was charmed to take whoever touches it somewhere else. This key must be a porgty, Ragnok thought as he looked at the gleaming gold key.

He immediately became wary. If He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named could bring the famous Harry Potter to him, then bringing a lowly goblin would most likely be no problem.

Ragnok appeared to be standing in the middle of a thick, dark forest. Dead leaves, pine needles, and twigs cracked and snapped under his feet as he turned around to take in the area.

Ragnok saw that he was in a clearing of some sort. He looked up towards the sky. And, seeing the star constellations and bright, glowing moon, concluded he was nowhere near a city, which meant there was no hope for rescuers coming.

Ragnok then sighted a group of hooded figures wearing cloaks the color of the pine trees surrounding himin the forest. A midnight black cloaked person, without a hood, walked amongst them. As the startling group strode nearer, Ragnok saw the man clearer.

Now Ragnok could see the distinct eyes of the man, they were astonishingly red.

The black cloaked man spotted the trembling goblin and approached him. The hooded figures formed a circle around the two beings. The man spoke: "You know who I am, Ragnok. I am Lord Voldemort."

The named goblin trembled.

The man, Lord Voldemort, continued, "I know for a fact that you are an influential goblin at the Gringotts bank. I want you to speak to your fellow goblins. Tell them that they all will join the Dark Lord's army. That is, if you agree to my treaty. On my honor, my Death Eaters and I will not harm a single hair of any goblins if you join my army of creatures. Will you, and your brothers and sisters, Ragnok, strengthen my ranks?"

Ragnok looked at his feet. He seethed with anger. So, goblins were '_creatures_' were they? Hadn't he learned anything about the many Goblin rebellions in magical histories? If goblins had enough sense to know when they were being used and when to fight, then why did he call them '_creatures_'? Did bears war against humans? No. Did horses fight against their human masters? No. Goblins were much more than simple animals. They were beings and should be treated with as much respect as humans and wizards.

But Ragnok was not a foolish goblin. He knew the consequences if he spoke his mind. He knew He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named would surely kill him if he said, "No. I'll never join you and your lot, you slimy, slithering, scumbag of a worm!" Yes, he decided, that action would not be wise.

Ragnok tried to look anywhere _but_ at the man with the cold, red eyes.

"Ragnok, I am not going to ask you again. Will you not join my creatures and I?" the Dark Lord hissed. _There he goes with the_ 'creature'_ word_ _again_, Ragnok thought. "You have, no doubt, seen the damage we did to the Department of Mysteries in the Ministry of Magic. Just imagine what we could do to Gringotts bank, your family, or your home."

Ragnok shuddered. Almost everyone he knew had heard about the horrors that happened in the atrium of the Department of Mysteries. He did not want the same to be inflicted upon those who were closest to him.

Ragnok turned away. He started to walk, but couldn't get any further because a man blocked him. When Ragnok looked up, he saw a portly, balding man with watery blue eyes. Ragnok would not have been intimidated by him had it not been for the powerful-looking, solid silver hand on the man's right arm. He reckoned the hand could crush a boulder if the need came.

"You can not escape from me, goblin," Lord Voldemort boomed. "What is your answer?"

Ragnok shook his head.

"I see you need persuasion," the Dark Lord said quietly, and then he said, "_Crucio!_"

A shock of pain was sent up Ragnok's spine. Ragnoksank tohis knees.

"Tell me!" Voldemort ordered Ragnok. "_Crucio!_"

A second line of pain shook Ragnok. Ragnok knew for certain he would die.

He knew the other goblins would be cheering him on: "Go on. Tell 'em no!" or "We work for ourselves. We don' need nobody!" had they been in this horrible place.

ImmediatelyRagnok knew what he should do.

He yelled, "Never! We will never join your forces." And with that last remark, the courageous goblin fell to the ground in exhaustion.

Apparently the Dark Lord wasn't through with him because he said, "Awake. Get up. _Ennervate!_"

The unconscious goblin suddenly twitched. Slowly he came to his feet, swaying.

Voldemort said icily, "I will let you have one last look at the life you have given up for some selfish morals." Ragnok groaned.

"Bring in the child," Voldemort ordered to one of his hooded servants.

The servant dragged in a goblin child, only six or seven years of age. She struggled in the man's arms. The man grimaced every time the girl hit his body. The young goblin wailed when the two came to a stop and Lord Voldemort laid his eyes on her.

Ragnok tried to reach out to her, saying, "Avilta, you need to be strong. You and your older brother will need to take care of our family."

"I will, Papa," said Avilta, tears streaming down her face.

"One last chance, goblin," the Dark Lord said sinisterly. "No? Then, _Avada Kedavra!_"

It was the last two words Ragnok the goblin ever heard.

The Death Eaters (Lord Voldemort's followers), the goblin family and Lord Voldemort were not the only beings in the forest clearing. Some one, or rather something, was under a bush near where the horrifying events had taken place.

An impatient, "Yow!" was heard, then minutes later a brown tabby cat dashed out from under the bush carrying some parchment and a quill.

The cat ran through the forest till it came upon a river. It stopped and sat at the bank of the river and closed its eyes. There was a small 'pop' along with a flash of violet light and a woman now stood where the cat was once.

The lady had graying black hair tied up into a bun and had an impatient look upon her face. She kept looking at her watch.

At last, she sighed and closed her eyes. A 'snap' was heard, and the lady disappeared.

**_End of Chapter 1_**

**A/N**: Ha! A cliffhanger! I shall hold the rest of this story hostage till someone tells me how exactly to post another chapter. (i.e. How do you go about posting it on the site? Could you please tell me the exact directions?) Thanks! I promise to update as soon as I can!


	2. Of Birds and Books

**A/N:** Thanks to all of my readers and reviewers (a grand total of **3** as of Feb. 9)!

I especially want to thank Crazy Hyper Lady for helping me post this chapter. Without her help you would still be waiting to know who the lady was at the end of the chapter (although I have no doubt that most people knew, right off the bat, who she was!).

**Disclaimer:** What! You actually think I own this material? (If you do, it would be a mighty fine compliment!)

Ha! I didn't even know how to post another chapter to my story!

**Chapter 2: Of Birds and Books**

Minerva McGonagall arrived at a deserted street. She started to walk down it when an old, ragged beggar woman approached her.

"Could you spare some change?" she inquired with a shaky and cracking voice. "It is for my cats. I only have twenty. Their names are Mr. Tibbles, Snowy…" She cackled.

"Tonks, don't poke fun at Arabella! She has only four cats, now that she gave some away last year," Minerva frowned and said disapprovingly. "Besides, I have grave information to report to Dumbledore. Which reminds me, shouldn't you be doing your job?"

"I am, professor," Tonks replied, still in the old lady's voice. "Mad-Eye sent me out here to wait for you. I guess it's my punishment because he said I made enough noise to wake people up on the other side of town."

Minerva sighed. "What did you do this time, Tonks?" she said wearily.

"Well, you know that talking mirror on the 3rd floor?" started Tonks. "I kind of broke it. But it wasn't _my_ fault! Someone left some books scattered around on the floor and I tried to avoid them, I _really _did, but I tripped over this monstrously thick book on Goblin Wars. I grabbed the mirror to keep from falling; only, the mirror wasn't securely attached to the wall, so it crashed to the floor with me. It only broke in to two pieces. I could easily fix that. After that, it started shouting swear words at me, joined in by Mad-Eye, who found me sprawled on the floor two minutes later," explained Tonks earnestly, but still in the beggar woman's screechy tone. Then she added, "They made a right old chorus. I reckon they could sing in a duet if they wanted to."

"Tonks, you really shouldn't talk like that all the time. It will drive people around you mad, including me," said Minerva.

Tonks replied, as the two women walked down the road, "Sorry, professor, but I'm just doin' my job. I've got to blend in, you know."

After walking a while, Tonks said, "So, what are you going to report to Dumbledore, professor?"

Minerva stiffened and replied, "We'll tell you at the next meeting, Tonks."

"_What!_ Why? You don't think I'm _responsible_ enough with important information? I'm not _mature _enough, huh? Is _tha_t it?" Tonks asked defensively. "Is this a face that is not responsible?" she asked.

Minerva turned to answer her young, annoying friend but found she was looking into a mirror image of her face.

If looks could kill, Tonks would be a pile of dust.

"What? I'm only joking," Tonks said earnestly. "Just a bit of fun."

"Life is not fun, Tonks. Especially now that Lord Voldemort is around," said Minerva, with a stone cold face. "We must take our jobs seriously now. We've already lost two members: Sirius Black and Sturgis Podmore. We very nearly lost Arthur Weasley. The Order doesn't want to lose you or anyone else."

"Alright, professor," Tonks said seriously. But then she resumed her normal bouncy-self, saying, "But I didn't know you cared so much about little old me!" She changed her face into that of a little girl's.

Minerva, unable to resist Tonks's charm, finally gave in, saying, "If you must know, someone very important was killed tonight by Voldemort."

"Oh no!" Tonks exclaimed, concerned and shocked. "Who was it?"

"Ragnok, the influential goblin at Gringotts Bill Weasley was trying to convince to join our side," explained Minerva. "And I have everything that happened written down on this piece of parchment, thanks to the Weasley twins."

When she noticed Tonks's confused expression, she added, "It's a modification of the Quick Quotes Quill called the Omniscrib."

"Oh, shoot!" muttered Tonks under her breath. "I hoped it was Fudge."

"I heard that," said Minerva. "Even though he and the Ministry of Magic do not respect us, we still have to respect them because they can harm us. It's common courtesy."

"'Common courtesy' my bum," mumbled Tonks to herself.

"Speaking of them," – Tonks started to say, but was interrupted by her former professor announcing that they had arrived at their destination.

Seemingly out of nowhere, a grubby-looking house appeared. The two women walked up to it as if they hardly noticed anything strange at all.

Minerva watched Tonks warily when the approached the door, upon which a snake shaped knocker hung, and beside which a green doorbell was placed.

Sure enough, the young witch reached out to ring the doorbell and succeeded.

Minerva immediately slapped her wrist.

"Hey!" Tonks protested angrily. "What was _that_ for!"

Minerva sternly said, "You know no one is supposed to ring the doorbell!"

"Well I've been getting better about it," Tonks said. "I only did it this time because I want to spite Mad-Eye. He's probably going to come stomping down the stairs, thinking up horrible curses to curse me with."

Tonk's prediction was half true, and they soon heard Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody thundering down the stairs yelling swear words with every step he took. He tore open the door, took one good, long look at the two women, and promptly turned Tonks into a _budgerigar_.

For a rare moment, Minerva was shocked and stood with her mouth agape. But she composed herself quickly and exclaimed, "_ALASTOR!_"

The named man didn't look perturbed at all and said flatly, "She was getting on my nerves. And I'm not going to return her to her original state till she shuts her mouth."

'Well, that's not very wise,' Minerva thought. For she knew that one of the most annoying traits of budgies was that they never stopped chattering.

Tonks gave an offended chirp beside her.

"I must ask: why? Why did you not put a Silencing Charm on her?" Minerva asked curiously.

"Because," the magical-eyed man growled. "Because even if she shuts her trap she won't stop making a mess everywhere she goes. Plus, an animal like that is easy to carry." Mad-Eye conjured up a bird cage.

Tonks, the budgerigar, voiced a frightened peep to her former professor. Apparently she did not like the idea of spending all day with her malevolent boss in bird form, most likely so in human form, too.

"Alastor, I'll keep an eye on her", Minerva told the mistrustful man. Then, seeing his wary glare, added, "And I promise I will not change her back to her human self till you deem her punishment over."

Mad-Eye Moody seemed satisfied with her statement. He said, "Right. Well, I'm going to be clearing out Mrs. Black's bedroom if you need me." And with that, he turned and stomped up the decaying stairs of the creepy house.

Minerva sighed. Alastor Moody was _so_ infuriating at times. On second thought, he was _always_ infuriating.

"Come, Tonks," Minerva said as the bird flew to her shoulder. "Let's go to bed."

**A/N:** So what do you think? This chapter is brighter and happier than the last, I must say.

I have so much experience with incessant chattering budgies it is not even funny.

Please read and review and I'll put up another chapter as soon as possible. (I've already written Chapter 3, so it won't be much longer to wait!)


	3. Cows, Owls, and Cats, Oh My!

**A/N:** I am _so_ glad I figured out how to post another chapter. I'm also happy that people actually reviewed and said they liked it! It is an _amazing _feeling, being complimented on something you enjoy doing.

I promise you'll see more goblins soon. This story isn't called The _Year of the Goblins_ for nothing.

Anyways, here's the chapter:

**Chapter 3: Cows, Owls, and Cats, Oh My!**

A boy, almost of 16 years, with raven black hair and bright green eyes sat at his desk at 9 o'clock at night doing his schoolwork.

There was nothing strange about the boy, except for the fact that he was not working out mathematic problems, but was answering questions for one of his favorite classes, Care of Magical Creatures.

He looked up from his parchment to study the question for a second time.

_21. What it the significance of the Mooncalf's trails in fields of grain? Explain why Leonard the Lunar captured these beasts._

Harry Potter sighed and thought, 'Hermione must have gotten to Hagrid about his lesson plans again. She probably even wrote out the questions for him.'

He chuckled. 'She's probably already done with them, too!'

Harry nibbled on the tip of his quill in thought, and then set to writing:

_Mooncalves create designs in fields of grain to communicate with…_

Suddenly there was a thump behind him.

Harry whirled around to find Errol, the Weasley family's decrepit, old grey owl hanging on to the outside windowsill by a claw.

Harry quickly stood up and dashed to open the window to let the miserable owl inside. Since Errol didn't have the strength to lift himself up, Harry had to grab the senile bird and transport him to his desk.

Harry noticed a letter was tied to his leg and took it off.

Errol hooted weary thanks and glided into Hedwig's cage. Hedwig shifted aside to make room for him. Errol plunged his beak into the water tray immediately and drank the cool water. Hedwig watched him concernedly.

Harry opened the letter and read:

_Hey Harry!_

_If you're wondering how Errol came to be delivering my messages, I'll tell you. Pig accidentally ate some Blue Arboravis tree seeds that Mum was going to plant in our garden._ _He probably thought they were his favorite flavor of Bertie Bott's, which is _soap

_I don't know why he likes soap-flavored beans, so don't ask me._

_Anyways, now he keeps turning into a miniature Blue Arboravis tree every time he hoots, which is often because he is a hyper-active little owl. He's driving me nutters._

_We're going to take him to the Magical Menagerie in Diagon Alley to se if they have anything to cure him._

_Mum's angry that our school letters and O.W.L. results haven't arrived yet. She says she sees no reason why we should have to go to 'that horrid jungle' twice in one summer. _

_I don't really mind going to Diagon Alley now that Fred and George have opened a shop there. I can finally stock up on Skiving Snackboxes for the school year!_

_I'm glad my school letter hasn't come yet. When it gets here Mum's going to have a fit when she sees my O.W.L. results. I know I did well in Defense Against the Dark Arts, but I'm worried about Potions and Transfiguration. If I didn't do well in either of those, I can kiss my dreams of being an Auror good-bye. Owl me if you get you O.W.L. results._

_I keep asking Mum if you can some over here. Yesterday she finally asked Professor Dumbledore and he said you could come in two weeks. I can't wait!_

_Hermione is still at her parents' house. You won't believe what she's taught her mad cat to do now. She's taught him how to deliver letters! One day I heard this scratching noise at the kitchen door and I looked out to find a humongous fuzz ball meowing, "Rowr! Rowr!" As it turns out, that's what he calls me. It's weird being talked to by a cat. It's not natural. Hermione says it wasn't that difficult to teach him how to deliver letters and say our names. I still think that cat is mad. She'll probably send you a letter by cat, too, so watch out for big fuzz ball with a smashed in snout._

_I'll keep writing to you till you can come here._

_Your friend,_

_Ron Weasley_

Harry smiled at the thought of a mail-delivering cat and immediately looked out his bedroom window.

Harry saw no sign of a ginger cat, but he did see a brown tabby cat with spectacle markings around its eyes.

'_McGonagall_', he thought, grimly. '_Come to se if I've been taken away by Death Eaters. Come to check on me._'

He opened the window and let the fresh summer breeze flow into his room.

Errol, upon seeing the open window, shuffled his feathers, adjusted his wings and prepared for a take-off. Unfortunately, the senile owl was still in Hedwig's cage, and, when he deemed the conditions perfect for flying, consequently crashed into the side of the cage with a resounding noise.

"Boy!" an angry voice roared from downstairs. "What are you _doing_ up there?"

"Nothing," Harry replied with an innocent tone.

Of course, he _was _right, but telling his easily irritated uncle that an old, feeble Wizarding owl smashed into his window and then into a wire cage would only make him angrier.

His summer with the Dursley's was relatively nice, if you could call being ignored all day long 'nice'. Aunt Petunia and Dudley avoided him like he was the Bubonic Plague.

Aunt Petunia was especially jumpy. It was if she suspected a wizard or witch to pop out from under a bush and hex her into oblivion. She was suspicious of her own mouth, lest it utter something like it did the summer before about the Wizarding world. When she was out in her garden, keeping her herbs and flowers neat and proper, she turned her head to look around every 15 minutes. Anything and everything even remotely related to magic (like broomsticks, cats, toads, tea cups, etc.) caused her to panic and feel dizzy.

Dudley was just plain scared. He didn't taunt Harry (for which Harry was grateful), nor did he say anything about the Dementor Incident of last summer.

Uncle Vernon was his usual grouchy-self, except for the fact that whenever he saw something fly by the window (not just owls, but all birds, and even leaves) he was sent into a frenzy and ranted on and on about owls.

Harry opened the owl cage door for Errol. Errol hooted some thanks and swooped out the window.

Harry immediately heard a shout: "Owls! Owls! More _bloody_ OWLS", followed by sharp gasp and a whimper.

Harry sighed and returned to his Care of Magical Creature's essay questions. '_Just another typical day at the Dursley household_,' he thought.

Harry worked on into the night. He looked at his desk clock, something Dudley was given when he turned 14 and didn't want, which read 10:00 pm.

'_Wow_,' he thought sarcastically. '_Time flies when you're writing about Fritz Zwicky and his contribution to Muggle science._'

Harry closed his textbook and went to sit on his bed. He opened the Quidditch section in the _Daily Prophet_ and began reading the scores of the latest Quidditch matches. He read an article about Ron's favorite team, the Chudley Cannons. In the article it stated that the team had finally broken the record for the most consecutive matches lost, which was 399, but now was changed to 400. Next to the article was a picture of the winning team's (Puddlemere United) keeper, Oliver Wood. Wood looked ecstatic and kept punching the air with his fist whilst the rest of his teammates just smiled in the background.

Harry smiled to himself. Oliver wood always was one to over react when a win occurred. He knew Wood was one of the best Quidditch Captains and Keepers Hogwarts ever saw. Now, being a professional Quidditch player, he was truly an awesome player.

**A/N:** If you would like to learn more about Fritz Zwicky (yes, he was a real person) I suggest you read this book: _A Brief History of Just About Everything _by Bill Bryson.

I really liked this chapter,

And I hope you do, too.

This is my plea,

Just read and review.

Ha! That just spilled out of my mind! Maybe I should just tell the rest of the story in song? ………… Nah!


	4. Crookshanks the Amazing Talking Cat

**A/N**: Thank you to all of my readers and reviewers who encourage me to post more chapters on the site.

Some have been asking where all of these random chapters fit together. I have a vague understanding of what is to happen in this fanfic but I need time to put it into writing, so bear with me.

I also want to say that Nymphadora Tonks will play an important role in the storyline.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any of this! You can't _own_ anything you write unless you _buy _it or Copyright it! I mean, what are you going to do if someone steals your idea of Arabella Figg having a witch sister? Sue them over matters that didn't involve papers? This ends my rant on copyrighted stories and storylines

On with the story:

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 4: Crookshanks the Amazing Talking Cat**

Harry and his relatives, the Dursley family, were sitting at the table eating breakfast when a pawing, scratching sound came from outside the door. This startled the family, particularly Harry's Aunt Petunia, who promptly started hyper-ventilating.

Petunia, for the twenty-third time in 48 hour, gasped and looked around suspiciously.

Petunia's habits seemed to rub off the rest of the family, for Dudley, even though he did not react like his paranoid mother, continued eating, as usual, but you could tell his hands were shaking by the way his porridge fell out of his spoon.

Uncle Vernon's face turned a nasty shade of pale yellow and he demanded, "Boy, what is that noise!"

Harry honestly didn't know so he just shrugged his shoulders. He was curious as to what would make that sound, too.

"Mowr," something behind the door said. Then it said, "Har-reh."

Harry was mystified. It almost sounded as if the thing behind the door was trying to say his name.

The fact that the beast behind the door appeared to be able to talk or speak was even more unsettling to the Dursleys. Petunia quivered in her chair. Dudley stopped eating. And Vernon's face was still a dull yellow, only now flecks of red were rising into his cheeks.

"Har-reh!" went the thing again.

This time Harry was sure the thing behind the door had said his name. He stood from his chair and walked to the open door.

Uncle Vernon objected to his actions and said in a dangerous tone, "Potter, don't you dare open that door!"

Harry enjoyed taunting his relatives. He smirked. He reached for the door knob.

Vernon was furious now. "We will lock you in your room till the remainder of the summer if you open that door! Now step away!"

Harry smirked again and turned the door knob.

"Boy!"

Harry pulled the door open and found a fluffy ginger cat with a smashed in snout looking up at him from the door step.

"Har-reh," the cat said.

Harry heard his Aunt Petunia drop to the floor in a dead faint behind him. Dudley went over to his mother to comfort her.

An astonished Vernon gaped at the innocent looking cat.

The cat, named Crookshanks, pranced into the house like he lived there. He leaped on to the couch and looked at Harry.

"Har-reh, ter frow My-neh," he stated.

"What? What is it?" Harry asked.

"My-neh ent ter ta Har-reh," the cat repeated.

Harry looked blankly at the peculiar feline. '_What is he doing? Is he trying to speak!_'

Harry asked Crookshanks, "What are you trying to say?"

"My-neh," repeated Crookshanks. "My-neh!"

"Hermione?" Harry asked it. "What about Hermione?"

Crookshanks started to say something but didn't get the chance because a pillow case was thrown over him by a man with large hands and a thick, short neck.

"Ha! I've got you now, you little vermin!" Uncle Vernon exclaimed triumphantly while stuffing the cat into the covering.

Harry defended the cat angrily, saying, "Why did you do that? He wasn't going to do anything to you!"

"How do you know that? For all I know he could attack my family and give us hideous diseases," Vernon shouted in reply.

"He is my friend's _normal_ housecat. He isn't about to start spitting fire to burn the house down," Harry explained stubbornly. "And he's just said her name, Hermione."

"This _thing_ can speak!" Vernon asked incredulously. "Do you mean to tell me that this bloody cat can talk?"

Harry, trying to stay calm, replied, "Not very well, but he can say 'Harry' and 'Hermione'."

Uncle Vernon stared at his nephew in disbelief. He said suspiciously, "You're up to something, boy, I know it."

Harry sighed in vexation at his uncle. "Uncle Vernon, I _swear_ I am not up to anything. I just want to find out why my friend's cat is saying her name and my name", he said assertively.

It was then that something finally dawned on him. In the letter Ron had sent him, it had mentioned Hermione and how she had taught Crookshanks how to deliver letters. He said, "I think he might have mail for me."

Vernon eyed him warily as if Harry might suddenly attack and said shakily, "You swear on th-that…that _thing_ in your back pocket? You swear that _cat_ won't harm me or my family?"

"Yes, Uncle Vernon, I swear."

"Fine," Vernon finally said, still keeping his eyes glued to Harry and his right hand, while he dumped a very grouchy Crookshanks on to the hard wood floor.

Crookshanks landed on his feet, as all cats do, made a quick dash up the stairs, and disappeared into Harry's bedroom.

Harry surveyed his surroundings. Petunia was just now becoming conscious while Dudley wiped her forehead with a wet washcloth. Vernon's face was slowly returning to its normal color while he continued to glare at his nephew.

Harry, not wanting to be around his easily irritated uncle any longer than was necessary, ran up to his room where he found Crookshanks crouching on his un-made bed, waiting.

The feline perked up when he saw the raven-haired boy enter the messy room. He got to his paws and promptly stated, "Har-reh, ter frow My-neh." Then he pulled on a strap, which was hidden under a mass of orange fur, to reveal a small purple coin purse. Crookshanks opened the flap and pulled out an envelope addressed to Harry. He laid the letter down on the bed and looked up expectantly at Harry.

"Wow, Crookshanks," Harry said to the cat currently sitting where he slept. Crookshanks purred and stretched out on the bed when he said this.

Harry picked the letter up and sat down at his desk to read the letter:

_Hello Harry,_

_Isn't it amazing? Crookshanks learns so fast! I have suspicions that he may be part kneazle. They're supposed to be really smart. That would explain why he learned how to say all of our names. He says my name as 'My-neh', your name as 'Har-reh' (as you've probably already guessed), Ron's name as 'Rowr', and Ginny's name as 'In-neh'. I even bought him a little knapsack to put his letters in so that he can hunt or eat while carrying them._

_Ron says you can come to the Burrow in two weeks. I think I might come a week later because my mum, dad, and I are going to visit some relatives of which I've never heard. My dad said they were his mother's second cousins twice removed. I don't see why we have to got visit them; we've gotten along well without ever visiting them. Dad says we're going to stay a week there. A whole week without studying magic! Can you imagine? I've been working overtime so that I don't have to worry about getting my assignments done after I arrive at the Burrow._

_My O.W.L.s haven't been delivered yet. Have yours? I'm afraid my Astronomy results will be horrendous due to the distraction concerning Professor McGonagall that night. I also hope I did well in Ancient Runes. I'm not very worried about my other subjects though, including Defense Against the Dark Arts. I'm absolutely sure that everyone in the DA passed their Defense Against the Dark Arts exams with flying colors, even Neville who was struggling before he joined! You make a really great teacher, Harry._

_I'll see you in three weeks and I'll keep writing to you while I can (because of relatives)._

_Your friend,_

_Hermione_

Harry set the letter down when he finished reading. Crookshanks apparently noticed this and said, "Mow" then pulled out another piece of parchment from his purple pouch. He set it down beside him.

Harry went over to pick the parchment up and read:

_Harry,_

_I know you'll be bored out of your mind this summer, so I have enclosed a coupon to Flourish and Blott's bookstore along with their owl-order and delivery station where you can send book requests. This has helped me overcome the summertime blues during many summer breaks. A neighbor of mine, Bonnie Maxwell, a soon-to-be 4th year Ravenclaw, has been lending me her owl, Aphrodite, so I can order books for myself. I'm afraid they won't accept cat-delivery._

_Hermione_

Sure enough, stapled to the parchment was a coupon for 25 off educational books when one purchased _Hogwarts, a History_. Hermione had no doubt sent this to Ron, too, most likely hoping both he and Harry would stop pestering her to find out information about their magical school.

Harry was grateful towards Hermione for being so thoughtful.

But Harry couldn't help thinking about the days to come.

He wondered if he was going to remain at the Burrow or be forced to go to Order of the Phoenix Headquarters. If he had to go to Grimauld Place, he would be miserable there without Sirius's company. He wondered what he was going to do all summer.

Harry went to sit on his bed. He was _so_ bored! This summer was going to be a complete waste of time. If only he could perform magic! He could be learning new spells to teach to the DA. He could be making and reviewing potions to prove to Snape that he was capable of becoming an Auror. He could be helping the Order.

This last thought was a thought of despair, of desperation. Harry was so bored stiff he wished he was out in the Wizarding world fighting and defeating Dark wizards and Death Eaters, instead of being stuck in his room in a house full of magic-hating Muggles.

It was then that Harry came to this conclusion: Hermione's idea was a life saver.

He quickly wrote a thank you note to Hermione and stuffed it inside Crookshanks's pouch. He instructed him to deliver it to his owner. Crookshanks gave a quick 'Mow' to show he understood and scooted out the door. Harry heard a shriek from his aunt, a broom coming into contact with the floor, and then a door slamming shut.

Harry wrote to the Flourish and Blott's bookstore:

_To Whom It May Concern:_

_I would like to order any and all N.E.W.T. level Defense Against the Dark Arts books along with a copy of _Hogwarts, a History_. I have a coupon enclosed. My address is also included._

_Mr. Harry Potter_

_4 Privet Drive_

_Little Whinging_

_Surrey_

Harry folded the letter up, stuffed it into an envelope, and tied it to Hedwig's leg with a bit of twine. He then opened the window and sent her on her way.

Harry saw that returning to the breakfast table was not an option if he wanted to avoid his uncle's anger. He decided to instead continue to work on his summer assignments.

_Potions: Grade Level 6 Summer Assignment_

_1. List the ingredients and write the instructions of the Boredom Draught._

Harry immediately yawned. _Why_ did Snape have to assign _this_ question?

**

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**A/N:** Yay! My longest chapter yet! I know that this story is seemingly not going anywhere, but I promise it will go somewhere soon. I just don't know where…lol

I must admit that I am an American and do not know how to write British addresses. Please excuse me for any mistake I might have made.

I actually came up with the 'Crookshanks the talking cat' thing on my own! Aren't I _creative_?


	5. Let Freedom Ring!

**A/N**: Yes, I know I haven't updated in forever. I've been so busy. The teachers at my school have decided that the end of the 3rd Quarter is an ideal time to load students up with ridiculously complicated homework.

I've been having some severe cases of writer's block, so my chapters might be arriving late.

I've also been writing a poem, which is posted on titled _The Founders Four. _I need to edit it, though.

Here's the latest chapter:

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**Chapter 5: _Let Freedom Ring!_**

The past two weeks of Harry Potter's summer were quiet and peaceful. Nothing particularly exciting happened to him. Even the _Daily Prophet_ didn't report anything strange, unusual, or mildly interesting, unless you count publishing an article about the decline in puffskein populations as 'interesting news'.

Consequently, Harry spent much of his time replying to letters sent by Ron and Hermione and working on his summer assignments. The work was not only difficult to complete, but was also boring and tedious.

Many a time, when Harry had woken up in a cold sweat from another horrific dream including Lord Voldemort, he had started on his work from History of Magic about the 29 Years Goblin War (which had only been 7 months), but fell asleep soon afterwards. As a result of such habits, the assignment looked fairly disjointed; it looked as if other students were adding two sentences at a time to the answer to the question.

The books that Harry had ordered arrived three days later, carried by three owls including his own, Hedwig. The books the bookstore had found for him were titled: An Auror's Guide to Defensive Spells by Rea Arcan, Extremely Advanced Spells for the Apprenticed Auror by Richard Dominacci, Mandatory Maneuvers for Master Magicians by Alastor Moody, and, the book Hermione had been referencing to for over 5 years now, Hogwarts: a History.

These new additions to his collection of defensive books made it swell to over ten books, excluding the volumes Remus Lupin had given him for his last birthday.

Harry dutifully wrote letters every three days to the Order of the Phoenix, describing his pathetically boring days in the Dursley household. In each and every letter he repeatedly asked when he was to be able to be rescued from the Dursley's prison-like dwelling.

The day before he received his long-awaited freedom, Harry heard a high-pitched twittering outside his bedroom window. Upon opening the window, something that appeared to be a grey snitch with feathers fluttered to Harry's bedpost. Upon closer investigation, the feathery snitch turned out to be Ron's Scops owl, Pigwidgeon. Since Pig was carrying a letter addressed to him, Harry had to hold the overly excited, tiny owl while he removed the parchment from his leg.

The letter read:

_Hey Harry,_

_We finally went to Diagon Alley yesterday, after two whole weeks of Pig turning into a tree. After a while, he started to stay a tree longer and began to take root. At that point, all three of us, i.e. me, Dad, and Ginny, begged Mum to take him to Diagon Alley to get him checked out. As it turns out, all we needed to do to cure him was to trim him into a bird topiary bush. How weird is that?_

_Mum ranted on and on about how we didn't really need to go to Diagon Alley and how we wasted three handfuls of perfectly good Floo Powder._

_In your last letter, when you wrote about Dudley accidentally punching the icebox instead of you, I nearly wet myself laughing so hard. And I couldn't _stop_ laughing. Finally, Mum had to give me Kachinatoni's Kwik Laughter Reducer. It tastes so horrible! I can see why it works so well!_

_By the way, how's the great lump's hand? I hope it still hurts him!_

_We, that is to say, me, Dad, Ginny, Tonks, and Mad-Eye Moody are going to come to take you away from the Dursley's at noon tomorrow. Tonks supposes that they've learned from their experience with the non-existent All-England Best Kept Lawn Competition (even though they don't look very smart). We'll have to think up a new way to either lure them away or take you way. Maybe we'll just charge in there, grab your things and you, and run out as fast as we can. Or, maybe not._

_In any case, we'll be arriving and leaving by Knight Bus, so prepare for your stomach to go up your throat._

_I can't wait to see you and neither can Ginny! We'll see you tomorrow._

_Your friend,_

_Ron Weasley_

Harry was extremely glad his day of freedom was tomorrow. He glanced at his calendar, tomorrow would be a Saturday, 27 July 1996. That meant only four more days to his birthday, and he would be spending it with the Weasley's!

With new found enthusiasm, Harry continued his work on the travels of Wilhelm the Wanderer and his faithful Pegasus, Aberatus, in History of Magic.

When Harry finished his History of Magic summer work, which was no small feat (for there were two hundred questions from the 1600's Goblin Rebellions to the creation of useless spells and charms in the 1800's), it was nearly 11 o'clock at night. That was saying something, because he started his assignment at 3 pm.

Harry sighed tiredly and headed off to bed.

* * *

Harry had neglected to tell his Muggle relatives about the witches and wizards who might come to call later that day. So, when the doorbell rang around lunch time, and the Dursley family was still there, Harry felt excited and nervous at the same time, wondering what his friends would do and what his Uncle Vernon would react. 

The doorbell rang again. Uncle Vernon, who was re-reading 'his' article in the business section of the afternoon paper about Grunnings, grumbled, "Bloody salesmen. They bother people on their day off from work." He got up from his usual seat on the couch and prepared himself for a good shouting bout at the supposed door-to-door salesman.

Petunia, who had heard the doorbell in the kitchen with her acute sense of hearing, dashed to the parlor window to spy on whoever had called.

Vernon opened the door wide, so that his family could see his act of bravery in telling off the unsuspecting salesperson. When he looked out, he did not see a smarmy salesman with slicked-back hair, but a girl of 15 with fiery red hair.

Harry immediately recognized her as Ginny, the younger and only sister of his best friend, Ron. He, then, sent a questioning look at her. Ginny either didn't notice or was acting like she didn't notice.

Uncle Vernon, however, clearly did not recognize Ginny. He asked impatiently, "Yes? What do you want?"

Ginny seemed unsure and looked behind her at a strawberry blond woman Harry supposed was acting as her mother.

The lady said encouragingly, "Go on, Tabitha, dear. Tell the nice man what your Buttercup Girls group is doing." This prompted Harry to snort (and, if he was drinking something, he would've done a spit-take). Vernon Dursley was _hardly_ a 'nice man'.

Ginny, or 'Tabitha the Buttercup Girl', turned back to Vernon Dursley, who was waiting impatiently and continuously checking his watch. "We are t-taking a survey of all the k-kids' ages in our n-neighborhood."

Vernon huffed impatiently, apparently not wanting to waste another minute of his Saturday. He said, "_And_? _So_?"

Ginny looked even more nervous at the prospect of speaking again to this very intimidating specimen of the male human being. Harry wrote a mental note to compliment Ginny on her acting skills; he knew Ginny was not this cowardly.

"C-could all of y-your children c-come out?" Ginny stuttered out.

Dudley, who was also in the living room watching his favorite television program _The Great Humberto_, didn't budge.

Vernon looked at her then glanced at his son and said, "My son is busy at the moment. He just turned 16 two months ago."

Ginny glanced at Harry, who smiled and waved. "What about him?" she said to Uncle Vernon, gesturing at his nephew, Harry.

Vernon grunted. "Potter, come over here!" he ordered. When Harry arrived at the door with him, he said, "Go out there with this girl and tell them your age and anything else they want to know."

Harry did as he was told and walked out the door.

"And don't take too long! You have to come back and Hoover clean up the kitchen," Uncle Vernon growled as he slammed the door at his despised nephew's back.

Harry sighed. _Finally_, he thought. _Finally, I can get out of this hole of death they call a house._ He smiled at his friend Ginny, who smiled back.

"Wotcher, Harry," the woman posing as Ginny's mother greeted him with a broad, dazzling smile with startlingly bright white teeth.

"Is that you, Tonks?" Harry asked incredulously at the overly gleeful lady.

"The very same," she replied, still wearing the wide, bright smile.

Harry was slightly unnerved by the way his most recent friend was smiling at him. "Er….Why are you smiling at me that way, Tonks?"

Ginny laughed.

"What, this?" she said pointing to her smile with perfectly manicured hands. She continued in a sickly sweet voice that reminded Harry forcefully of his former Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Dolores Umbridge, "It comes with the job, Harry. I have to stay in character, you know. _I'm_ a stay-at-home-mother who takes joy in every minute thing my only child does and defends her when other people imply that she, my perfect little angel, has done something wrong."

"Just like my Aunt Petunia," Harry observed.

"Exactly. Which is crucial to your escape from here, Harry" Tonks replied.

Harry asked suspiciously, "Wait. What are you going to do?"

"You'll find out in a moment," Tonks replied mischievously.

Ginny grinned and added, "Yeah, and you'll be surprised at how fast we'll get your things."

As Ginny reassured her friend, a change was coming over Tonks's body. She was becoming taller and her neck was elongating. Her hair was becoming darker with every second that passed till it became an ebony black. Her face was lengthening, and her head took on the shape of that of a horse's. Soon she looked like a completely different person than Ginny's supposed mother. In fact, she had an exact resemblance to Petunia Dursley of number 4, Privet Drive.

Harry stared in awe at his Metamorphmagi friend as she winked and disappeared into the house of the malevolent Dursleys.

* * *

Tonks, as Petunia Dursley, closed the door behind her, which startled Vernon who was again re-reading the Grunnings article in the paper. 

Vernon looked up, surprised at his supposed wife. "Er….Didn't you just go out into the garden, Petunia?"

"Oh. Yes, I did, Vernon," replied Tonks. "But I forgot something so I came in here to retrieve it."

This caused Vernon to become very confused and he paused to think. "But you –," he started but never finished, for his wife was now not in front of him, but was thundering up the stairs. This occurrence caused Vernon to be even more confused, because his wife was not one to thunder up the stairs like a teenager. Vernon finally concluded that the world had gone mad and returned to his beloved article.

Tonks quickly found Harry's bedroom. She saw his trunk and Hedwig on his made bed. "Tsk, tsk, falling out of habit are we, Harry?" she said when she glanced around his room. "I better mess this up a bit," she said as she rapidly messed up his bed and overturned his waste basket by his desk. "There. That's better."

She swiftly performed a Weightlessness Charm on his belongings and carried them out of the messy room and down the stairs.

Vernon, reading the article that praised his company for the tenth time, yet again noticed something strange about his wife who was now coming down the stairs as quickly as she went up with their nephew's belongings.

"What are you doing with the _boy's_ possessions, Petunia dear?" he asked his wife.

"Oh," Tonks exclaimed, as if she hadn't noticed Vernon was still in the same position on the sofa. "I've decided that Harry has stayed here long enough. I'm going to put his things on the doorstep and return to my garden."

Vernon completely agreed with Petunia's resolution and said so. _The boy has been nothing but a pest and we're right to get rid of him_, he thought pompously.

Petunia, or a cleverly disguised Tonks, opened the door and walked out of the house.

* * *

"Here you are, Harry," said Tonks as she swept out of the Dursley house. 

Harry, who had been talking with Ginny on the road curb, turned around and thanked her. "That was a brilliant idea, Tonks," he said happily.

But a thought suddenly occurred to him. Harry asked, with his eyes furrowed, in a low, serious voice, "What did you tell Uncle Vernon?"

"Oh, nothing really," Tonks responded casually. "I told him I was kicking you out of the house and that you would have to live somewhere else."

Harry was worried now. _What would the real Petunia Dursley do when she found out her husband had kicked out her Wizarding nephew?

* * *

_

Petunia Dursley, having been gardening and removing 'deadly' weeds from her precious flower beds, returned to her kitchen to find it still dirty and the dishes by the sink, waiting to be washed.

"Harry!" she screeched. When no reply was heard, she shouted again, "Harry!"

Still, Harry did not answer. She walked into the den to spy her husband, Vernon, highlighting the particularly good parts of the Grunnings article.

"Vernon, where has that boy got to? He was supposed to clean the kitchen while I was in the garden," she told her husband.

For the third time that afternoon, Vernon looked curiously at his wife. "But, dear, you set his things outside not an hour ago when you were kicking him out of our house. Don't you remember?"

"I did no such thing," snapped Petunia, worried. "I've been out in the garden."

Uncle Vernon's eyebrows furrowed, as if he was in deep concentration or thought. "But if _you_ didn't gather his belongings…" he said slowly.

Aunt Petunia gasped and bolted over to the window. She peeked outside. Nothing, not even a trace of a boy with a heavy trunk and caged owl was to be found.

* * *

**A/N:** Some of my readers have asked where I got the idea for Crookshanks the Talking Cat. Crookshanks is based upon my own cat, a scruffy, orange Maine Coon by the name of Pumpkin who says 'Mom' when she wants my mother's attention. 

Please read and review!


	6. Of Summers and Friends

**A/N:** _Many of you may think that I am dead. Obviously, I am not, or else I wouldn't be writing this now. LOL! I don't know how many months ago I last posted, but I am VERY SORRY! My evil American Literature teacher assigned my class the research paper from hell, which was supposed to be on an American writer. I_ _chose to do Jack London. (Sorry, I can get off topic sometimes!) Anyways, now that it's over, I can probably get more chapters up! _

_

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**Chapter 6:** _Of Summers and Friends_

Three people were seen by the neighbors walking toward the neighborhood's play park. One was the dreaded delinquent, Harry Potter, whom everyone avoided unless they wanted to be harmed in some way. Another person of the group had long, fiery red hair, but no one seemed to know who this girl was. And the third person of the party was the strangest of them all: it was a young woman with short, green, spiky hair wearing clothes one would expect to see on a housewife.

All three persons were closely watched until they disappeared around a row of hedges separating the swings from the jungle gym.

What the suspicious inhabitants of Little Whinging did not see were two men, one oddly dressed and another wearing a long raincoat and a bowler that tilted over his left eye, sitting on a bench behind the shrubs. A gangly teenager with red hair and widespread freckles was also with them.

When Harry came into view, Ron Weasley leapt from the bench and nearly tackled his best friend to the ground. "Harry! How are you? Dudley didn't beat you up too much, did he?"

"Nah. After what I like to call 'the Icebox Incident', he left me alone for a week. Last week I guess I had luck because he didn't come out to get me at all," remarked Harry as he pushed Ron off himself.

Harry then greeted the two adults, Mr. Weasley and Alastor Moody on the bench behind him. Mr. Weasley enthusiastically greeted him back, but Moody just grunted. Harry noticed his electric-blue eye was fixed upon Tonks who was now changing her hair from a short, green hairstyle to a turquoise blue bob.

Moody's eye was not the only thing he noticed, he also saw that his friend, Ron, had grown another two inches and was now taller than his father.

Harry and Ginny told Ron about the exciting events of the past hour.

"Amazing!" Ron exclaimed. "Your uncle really is as thick as you say he is, Harry."

"What? You didn't believe me the past hundred times I've told you?" Harry asked in mock emotional pain.

"Well, you do know what people have been saying, don't you? It's been all over the newspapers, too," Ron said slowly and cautiously. "They're saying that you're deranged, unstable, and make stuff up to get attention." Ron grinned slowly.

At this point, Harry shoved Ron into the bushes. Ron laughed at this, "Is that the best you can do?" and returned the favor. The two boys continued shoving each other in growing ferocity until Ron landed out in the street. "Ow!" he cried. "Oy! If I could do magic right now I would hex you into oblivion!"

Ginny rolled her eyes and muttered something that sounded like, "Stupid boys."

"So. What are we going to do now?" Harry asked as he helped Ron to his feet.

"Oh," said a surprised Mr. Weasley, who was in conversation with Mad-Eye Moody and Tonks. "Well, Harry, we should be getting on the Knight Bus right about now." Tonks signaled with her wand hand in the road.

Instantly, a violent purple triple-decker bus appeared in front of them with a large, loud _bang_ that shook the trees.

"If I've told them once, I've told them a _thousand_ times not to have an entrance so conspicuous!" Moody growled angrily as the party of six boarded the violet vehicle.

Tonks led the way in front of the three teens, paying for their ride and then leading them towards the back of the bus. When the four seated themselves in the multiple kinds of chairs, Harry asked the question that he had been mulling around in his head for two weeks: "Where are we going? The Burrow?" he asked hopefully.

"No," Tonks replied; Harry's heart sank horribly. They were going to Grimmauld Place; they were going to the Order of the Phoenix Headquarters; they were going to the home of a dead man.

Tonks continued, "We're going to pick up Hermione, and then bring you all back to the Burrow, where all of you will stay about mid-August." At this moment, Ron coughed lightly and the tips of his ears turned pink. Ginny grinned at her older brother, as if she knew why Ron was coughing. Harry knew neither why Ron was coughing nor why his littlesister was smiling at him, and stared bewildered at the two of them.

Soon Mr.Weasley joined them with snacks. He had bought a bag of crisps (advertising a contest) for himself and pretzels for everyone else from a nearby corner market before Tonks had brought Harry.

Harry watched Mr.Weasley in amusement as the man pointed excitedly at the front of the bag, where it said there was a prize of one million pounds if the consumer of the crisps found a golden coin in the bag.

"Look, Tonks!" he said excitedly. "We could win a million pounds if we find a coin in here! One million _pounds_!"

It seemed and sounded to Harry that Mr.Weasley was more excited about the _form_ of currency than the _amount_ of it. Harry observed that Ginny was very talented in the sport of rolling one's eyes, for she was at it once again.

The group soon heard shouting, although it seemed that only one person was doing the act. The shouter turned out to be Alastor Moody, for his rumbling growl rebounded around the bus.

"…And if you ever make such an appearance like _that_ _anywhere_ near Little Whinging, I will personally punish you and see to it that you and that _deranged_ driver are fired for _good_! Do you understand me!"

Harry, along with many other curious passengers, stuck their heads out into the aisle to see who was being reprimanded. He saw that is was Stan Shunpike, the pimply adolescent conductor of the Knight Bus. Stan stood rigid against one side of the bus, wide-eyed and unmoving. He nodded slowly, his beady eyes darting back and forth between Moody's wand in his hand and the man's eyes, both his normal and electric-blue, magical eye.

"I would want to be that one," Tonks remarked behind Harry. "I know from experience. His punishments are more like creative torture."

"Really?" Ginny asked keenly. "And what has he done to you _lately_?"

Tonks suddenly looked flustered. "Er…" she stalled as she searched for something to say. "I can't tell you. It has something to do with stuff we're working on in the Order."

"Apparently it involves something with purple feathers," observed Ginny as she plucked a purple down feather from Tonks' shirt.

Mr.Weasley shot Tonks a glance and she grinned apologetically, "Oops?"

By this time Moody was stomping down the aisle towards the group. "We'll be there in about ten minutes," he said when he pulled up a chair. "The _gracious _conductor has moved us to the top of the list." He smirked. His magical eye rolled over to Tonks. "Tonks! Get those feathers out of your hair!" he ordered when he spied his assistant.

"Oh, but I think they look _pretty_," Tonks said sarcastically.

Moody looked like he was about to say something, but at that moment the Knight Bus made an extremely sharp right turn, throwing all it's passengers and their belongings to the left side of the bus. A minute later, it made another daring move, racing into on-coming traffic then pulling out at the last moment. The rest of the bus ride was like this and soon everyone in group was green in the face and holding their stomachs except Ginny, Tonks, Mr.Weasley, and Moody.

They felt the bus slow down as they neared an open-field park. "Right. We're going to leave all our things here on the bus because we're getting back on in a few minutes," said Moody. "Bring your wands, but don't put them in your back pockets. We don't want anyone losing any body parts." Harry hid a smile as he thought about the conversation held between the retired Auror and Tonks last summer surrounding this issue. Tonks had been curious to know if anyone had lost certain 'parts' because they put their wand in their back pocket.

Soon, Harry heard shouting coming from the front of the bus. He looked up and saw Stan waving at them, arms outstretched, shouting, "Hey! You lot! Down there! Your stop's 'ere!"

As the group made their way to the front of the bus, pushing aside various chairs, Moody muttered, "I told him only to whistle." When they made it to the front, Moody gave Stan some silver sickles and said, "We'll be back on in a few minutes, so see to it that you come back. And don't even _think_ about arriving with so much as a '_snap'_."

Harry stepped off the bus, but before he had a chance to do anything else, he first had to regain control of his wobbling, jelly-like legs. Nearby, Ron seemed to be in the same condition, for he was lying spread-eagle and breathing deeply in the long grass. Ginny, on the other hand, was chatting calmly to Tonks, who was also unshaken by the bus ride.

Having calmed his legs, Harry surveyed his surroundings. The group had arrived at a Muggle bus stop at the edge of a play park in a neighborhood much like that of the Dursleys. The only difference was that this play park was teeming with kids of all ages. The play park in the Dursley's neighborhood was often as abandoned as an old mining town, a ghost town. This was so because of the neighborhood terrorizers, Dudley's gang, who often hung around the park like see gulls around a dump.

The houses in this area closely resembled Little Whinging, in that in front of each house was a lamppost and each front yard had beautiful, well-cared for flower beds. But the architecture was different. The houses in Little Whinging all had a uniform appearance, where each house was made of the same material, was the same color, and had the same shape as the dwelling next to it. However, in this area, the houses were different. Each had its own style: some were made of brick, stone, or wood; some had only one floor, but others had up to three stories; and some had balconies leading from each floor. This neighborhood seemed to be the exact opposite of the Dursley's.

The playing children paid no attention to the group of six which made their way across the park, with a strange old man in a trench coat leading the way. They walked a block before stopping in front of a house with two levels, with a balcony protruding from the second story and a spacious front porch.

Mr. Weasley volunteered to ring the doorbell. When he went up the steps on to the porch, he became thoroughly over-excited and Mad-Eye had to replace him. The doorbell rang, but nothing happened. Mr. Weasley speculated that it wasn't plugged in and began to draw an electric cord out of his pockets. Moody knocked on the door loudly. Still, nothing happened.

Suddenly a window on the upper level opened. They saw a flash of bushy, brown hair and heard an surprised 'Oh!'. A moment later Hermione's face appeared in the window. "Wow. I didn't expect you to be hear this early! I'll be right down with my things. Just give me a minute," she said and shut the window.

It had been longer than a minute when Hermione emerged from her house lugging a trunk with her initials on it with one arm and a very agitated Crookshanks with the other. Ron's head stretched towards the door, as if trying to see what the inside of his friend's home looked like. Apparently Hermione noticed because she closed the door shut firmly and said, "You don't want to see my house. It's so messy it looks like a hurricane came through."

"I'll wager it's not as messy as ours," Ron muttered under his breath.

Tonks noticed her young friend struggling with her trunk. "Here let me help you with that," she said. "_Pondusine_." The trunk instantly became lighter than a feather.

"Thanks, Tonks," Hermione said gratefully.

"So how's your summer been, Hermione?" asked Ron, looking at his feet.

"Summer? What _summer_?" sighed Hermione. "For the last month I haven't been able to relax one moment. From visiting previously unknown Muggle relatives to turning my house into a playschool for several toddlers, I haven't had time to relax. Not to _mention_ the amount of work our professors have decided to dump on us. Do you _know_ how _hard_ it is to write down the ingredients for the Draught of the Living Dead while a 3-year old is whining in your ear for the _billionth_ time about how Donald is now putting pens up his nose? _Very_ _hard_." When she finished saying this, she looked even more bothered than ever.

"So you baby-sit?" Ron observed.

Hermione sent him a look of death. "Yes, _Ron_."

"Why put yourself through the misery?" he continued. At this point, Ginny poked him in the side and told him to shut up.

"Alright, everyone?" said Mr. Weasley, putting his hands together. "Then let's go." He started off towards the play park, but Moody stopped him. "I just want everyone to know before we go that they are doing a good job of acting like Muggles and I expect you all to continue the good job."

"Yeah, and so far no one's blown off their bum!" added Tonks cheerfully.

"Okay. Let's go," Mr. Weasley said as he led the group to the play park. At the Muggle bus stop, Tonks threw out her wand hand into the road.

Instantly a sign appeared below the bus stop sign. It read:

_Thank you for choosing the Knight Bus. Since you are in a heavily populated Muggle area, the Bus will be disguised as a Muggle bus called the MM Express. We will be with you shortly._

A moment later, a normal city bus pulled up next to them. The door opened with a hiss. Stan Shunpike poked his head out and said, "Hello there, Mr. Moody, sir. Getting back on?"

Moody replied calmly, "Yes" as the party of seven boarded the bus.

After loading Hermione's things into the luggage space above them, group sat down in their former seats.

"So we'll be going to the Burrow now?" Harry asked Mr. Weasley as he passed a bag of pretzels to Hermione.

"Yes. Where you'll stay till mid-August when we must go to Headquarters," replied Mr. Weasley. Then, seeing the saddened face of Harry, "We _must_ go there, Harry. It's for your safety and ours. And we'll be meeting some new faces that we want all of you to be acquainted with."

Soon the Knight bus arrived at the group's final destination, the Burrow. They said good-bye to Tonks and Moody who remained on the bus and entered the familiar house.

Harry had arrived at his second home.

* * *

**A/N:**_ Again, I apologize for my lack of chapters. I hope you like this one. It took me a long time to actually type it. _

_For those of you who are wondering what '**pondusine**' means, it is Latin and a combination of the words '**sine'** (without) and '**pondus'** (weight). Clever, eh?_


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